Mist-Torn 01 - The Mist-Torn Witches (16 page)

A hard jolt hit her, and then another. The great hall vanished, and she was swept away on the white mists, rushing forward, blind and bodiless until the mists vanished, and she found herself once again inside a small, darkened bedroom.

Why was it always bedrooms?

But then she looked down. Inna lay sleeping beneath a white quilt. She looked younger with her face so relaxed. Panic hit Céline immediately…as this was all too familiar.

“Inna, wake up!” she said, but she wasn’t really there. Inna couldn’t hear her.

Slender hands covered in black gloves came into view, moving slowly toward the bed, and Céline began to choke.

The black gloves continued to move. One of them settled on the side of Inna’s face and the other on her throat. Again the hands did not grip down, or do anything besides touch Inna’s face and throat, and the flesh on Inna’s cheek began to ripple…and then to shrivel.

Beneath the black-gloved hands, Inna’s face
withered, sinking in upon itself until it was nothing more than a dried husk. Inside the vision, the black gloves pressed harder on her cheek and throat, and as with the other young victims, Inna’s body seemed to shrink beneath the quilt.

Céline began to weep, sobbing in gulps.

“Come out of it!” someone ordered.

The dim room vanished, and she found herself in Anton’s grip, looking at his pale chin. He had ahold of her upper arms. Though his voice was harsh, he also sounded worried. “Céline, come out of it.”

Without thinking, she leaned in, pressing her face into his shoulder.

“It’s Inna,” she choked. “Inna’s next.”

*   *   *

Within the hour, Jaromir had secured a small, windowless room just down the passage from his own apartments. He wasn’t taking any chances this time. He had Pavel and two other men, Guardsmen Rurik and Winshaw, whom he knew well, gathered around the outside of the door.

“No one closes the door,” he ordered. “We’ll run a two-man watch in three-hour shifts so no one gets tired. Just stand in the doorway and keep your eyes on her while she sleeps. Don’t look away for a second, understand?”

“Yes, sir,” his men answered in unison.

He had full control out here. But the scene playing out in the interior of the room was another matter—involving Céline, Inna, and Amelie. Inna
was still stunned by having been rushed here, and she kept going on and on about not having laid out Anton’s bedclothes or his nighttime snack or his goblet of wine. She was nearly hysterical.

Anton himself had already retired for the night, leaving the arrangements to Jaromir.

“Please, please,” Inna begged, “you must let me go! My lord needs me to attend his sleeping preparations.”

Amelie appeared to have little patience with such a display and seemed close to knocking the young woman senseless—to which Jaromir might not have objected.

While Céline was normally calm and sensible, the experience from her vision had left her rattled, and to his consternation, she seemed bent on arguing with his strategy. For the third time, she came at him.

“Lieutenant, you must see this won’t work,” she insisted. “By placing her inside this room in the castle, you’re signing her death warrant. If you wish to keep her safe, you’ll take her outside the city gates, somewhere far from here, somewhere the killer cannot reach her.”

She’d been pressing this point since only moments after having read Inna in the great hall, and he had no intention of voicing the main flaw of her argument: that he needed Inna for bait. To this point, he’d simply ignored Céline, but now she was questioning him in front of his men.

“Mistress Fawe,” he said quietly, pulling her
aside, “I am not just trying to save Inna. I am trying to catch a murderer. Inna will not be left alone, but you need to leave me to this. Go back to your own room.”

“But, Lieutenant, you cannot just—”

“Now!” He looked back into the room. “Amelie, please come take your sister back to your room.”

He had no idea how Amelie would react, as she didn’t tend to follow orders, but she seemed relieved at the prospect of flight and came out quickly, grasping her sister’s hand. “Come on, Céline.”

“Amelie, we can’t leave her like this!”

“Do you require an escort?” Jaromir asked, not bothering to keep the threat from his voice.

“No,” Amelie answered, dragging Céline away.

Jaromir regretted having been so harsh, but he turned back to the task at hand, walking to the doorway of the room. “Inna, you can sleep in your clothes. I’m not shutting the door, even for a few moments.”

She stared out at him with hollow eyes but didn’t argue. Perhaps the reality of her situation was beginning to set in.

“Sir,” Pavel said, “Rurik and I should take the first watch. That way, you can sleep for a few hours. The last attack occurred halfway between the mid of night and dawn. If you and Winshaw take the watch in three hours, that’ll most likely be when the killer appears anyway.” He paused.
“Plus, I’ve been on night watch this week, and I’m not tired.”

Jaromir hated to just go to sleep, but Pavel’s words made sense, and Jaromir was determined to count only upon these three men he trusted, spelling each other in teams, in short three-hour shifts in order to keep alert.

“All right.” He nodded. “Have me woken in three hours, and remember my apartments are within shouting distance.” He turned to look inside the room. “Don’t take your eyes off her…I mean it. One of you keeps a watch on her if she has to use the chamber pot. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

Still reluctant to leave, he headed down the passage to his own rooms. Pavel was right, and he’d be in better form if he at least rested for a few hours. But only when he slipped inside his rooms and found himself alone did he relax enough to let doubts begin to flow. There was no guarantee the killer would strike tonight. This night vigil could be repeated for some time. He had to make sure his men remained alert.

Worse, what would happen when the killer realized he or she couldn’t attack Inna without being seen by two armed soldiers? Would the murderer choose another victim? No, Jaromir had to rely on Céline’s vision. It was all he had.

Running a hand across his jaw, he tried to remember the last time he’d shaved properly. His
goatee was turning into a beard, but he was too exhausted to care.

A knock sounded on the door.

With a sigh, he went to open it, wondering if Pavel or Rurik had forgotten to ask him something.

But it was Bridgette standing on the other side, wearing nothing but a silk dressing gown with a half-tied sash. Had she walked from her own apartments like this? Her red-gold hair was hanging loose, and his eyes fixed on her face, moving down her throat to the V in the dressing gown between her breasts. He knew that her body was delicate and soft at the same time.

“I fear I offended you this evening,” she said. “If so, I have come to apologize.”

She hardly sounded apologetic, but her coming here—without him sending a message—must be humiliating on her part. She’d been married to one of the wealthiest silk merchants in the province, and now she was sharing a bed with an ex-mercenary.

A part of him thought on her earlier cruelty to Amelie tonight, and he wanted to send her away. Another part kept looking at the V in her dressing gown. He was tired, but he also needed release, and they’d always served each other well in that capacity.

Stepping back, he held the door, and she entered with the hint of a triumphant smile. By the
time he’d closed the door and turned around, she’d untied her sash and let her dressing gown drop to the floor.

He couldn’t help a sharp intake of breath. Her skin was flawless, and he took in the sight of her high-set breasts and the small red-gold triangle at the tops of her thighs. Without waiting, he moved to her, grabbing her bare back with one hand and moving his other hand between her legs.

She gasped and said urgently, “Don’t take off your armor.”

He knew she liked all elements of the act of having sex with a soldier. He’d never minded before. But something about the way she’d said it hit him wrong. He didn’t know why. Pulling her in tightly, he pressed his tongue into her mouth and waited for his body to respond.

In his mind, he kept hearing the same brightly spoken but cutting sentences over and over.

Did you farm pigs there? I heard almost all the peasants under Damek’s rule farm pigs for a living.

The cruel tone of it echoed in his ears.

Sliding his hand from her back up to cup one of her breasts, he kissed her deeper, willing himself into arousal.

It didn’t work.

A shop? How charming. So then you must have kept the pigs out back?

He stopped and took his mouth from hers. This wasn’t going to work. For all her beauty, the memory
of her trying to hurt Amelie was branded onto his brain.

“What is it?” she asked.

He reached for her dressing gown and handed it to her. “I’m tired. Go back to your own rooms.”

Alarm—possibly fear—flickered across her face. She was wealthy enough, but her place here at court, and her choice apartments, were due to him.

“Jaromir?”

He could see any number of questions developing on her lips, and he hoped she wouldn’t ask them. He was too weary to lie to her tonight, and once spoken, the words could not be taken back. That was a great tragedy of life. Words could never be taken back.

She seemed to realize this as well, and managed a brittle smile while reaching for her gown. “Of course. You only need call on me, and I’ll come directly.”

After tying her sash, she made a graceful exit.

Looking at the closed door behind her, he didn’t think he’d be calling upon her again.

*   *   *

Amelie didn’t know what to do.

She’d led Céline back to their room, thinking that some time alone together by the crackling fire would help set things right, but Céline continued to tremble while pacing the floor.

“He’s wrong,” she kept whispering. “Why can’t he see that? He needs to get her away from here,
but Anton won’t listen to me. He only listens to him.”

“Céline! What is wrong with you?”

Amelie had never seen her sister like this. Once again, she thought Céline pointing a finger at the next victim—and Inna at that—was a mistake. Last time, by a fluke, the poor girl she’d named had turned out to be the next victim. But Amelie doubted such an event occurring again. This strategy of Céline’s seemed to lack any sort of plan.

Céline looked over at her. “Jaromir is wrong, and he’s going to get Inna killed.”

“You can’t possibly know that. Are you starting to believe your own game?”

After standing there a moment longer, Céline went to the bed, sitting on the edge. “Come and sit with me. I have something to tell you. Something I should have said days ago, but I haven’t known how.”

Amelie moved slowly to join her sister. She didn’t like this. “What?”

Céline opened her mouth and closed it again. Whatever she had to say, she truly didn’t know how to say it.

“We’ve never had secrets from each other,” Amelie said.

“No. No, we haven’t.” But Céline paused again. “I’ve been seeing the future when I read some people…really seeing their futures. It started back home when I read Rhiannon. I saw Damek
having her falsely accused of adultery and strangled. I saw Sybil die. I saw black gloves reaching for her face and throat. Tonight, I saw Inna die the same way.”

Amelie froze. “No, I know Mother could see for real, but we…we live by our wits.”

Céline stared at the floor and shook her head. “I was afraid to tell you. I was afraid of what you’d say. But it’s true. I’m becoming like Mother.” Her eyes flew up. “It doesn’t change anything. It could even help us. I’m giving the correct answers once I have a true vision…or I think I am.” Her voice grew intense. “But so far, I haven’t been able to change anything I’ve seen, not for certain! Jaromir is wrong for keeping Inna in the castle. She should be taken far away.”

Amelie sat there, still frozen. For the past five years, she and Céline had lived by their wits and their strengths, with Céline playing the seer and Amelie making certain they were both safe, protected. At times, the money Céline earned made the partnership feel less than equal, but Amelie had worked hard at her contributions, and as sisters, they treated each other as equals. Now Céline was becoming like Mother? A true seer?

“It won’t change anything,” Céline insisted. “But tonight, you have to help me.”

“With what?”

“To save Inna. We have to try and alter the future I saw for her.”

Amelie shook her head in confusion. “Save her? We’d never get near her. Jaromir’s got two armed guards on her door.”

Céline stood up. “I can get near her. As we were heading back here tonight, I heard Pavel volunteer for the first watch.” She paced toward the hearth. “But we need to get down into the village and break into the apothecary’s shop first.”

“Why?”

Céline turned around. “Because I saw poppies growing in the herb garden.”

C
éline had a bad feeling that her three hours were almost up. It had taken longer for them to get down to the village, break through a window at the shop, and harvest the poppies than she’d expected. Only the youngest, nearly unripe heads would work for what she needed.

Then she’d had to go back inside the shop to boil the heads down properly to make a white, milky syrup.

She knew she was endangering her chances of ever achieving ownership of the shop, and the thought pained her, but Inna’s life mattered more. And for all his good intentions, Jaromir was wrong.

Once back inside the castle, she and Amelie had hurried up to their room. Helga always left a jug of cold spiced tea and two mugs on their dressing table, in case one of them should become thirsty in the night. Without hesitation, Céline poured two mugs of the tea and unstoppered the vial she’d carried from the village.

“How much will you use?” Amelie asked.

“All of it.”

She poured half the vial of the milky substance into one mug and the rest in the other.